


After the final bow

by TheGayWhoDoesLikeMusicals



Category: Black Friday - Team StarKid, The Guy Who Didn't Like Musicals - Team StarKid
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 02:33:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 898
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26409559
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TheGayWhoDoesLikeMusicals/pseuds/TheGayWhoDoesLikeMusicals
Summary: Hatchetfield was doing good
Relationships: Paul Matthews/Emma Perkins
Comments: 2
Kudos: 17





	After the final bow

**Author's Note:**

> I could also have called this you're not alone, but i think this titles more spicy

Hatchetfield was doing good.

I mean, why wouldn’t they be? 

Everyone just got on with their normal days, their normal routines, and they had all completely forgotten what happened last year.

Absolutely.

There was no thoughts of aliens, or blue shit, or singing. The starlight theatre just happened to be turned into a mall when it was rebuilt, for no good reason except they needed another mall. Nothing was wrong at all.

Paul sighed as he made his way across the busy streets, pretending not to notice the wary glares of the citizens, because they weren’t there. 

He opened the door to beanies. It was a coincidence that they had taken the bell off the door, and they had decided it was more practical to not drop everything and sing when they were tipped.

Yes, everything was normal.

“Hey, asshole, you want a black coffee?”

Emma was grinning at him from behind the counter. She was beautiful. He had never hurt her, never scared her, and had definitely not killed her.

Nope, they were fine.

“Take a picture It’ll last longer”

Emma was giggling.

“C’mon, I have break in 5, We can run home and feed Honey.”

Paul and Emmas dog, honey, was a recommendation from the hospital after... Emma hurt her leg in... A car crash. They thought it would be good for them to have something to care for.

*

Emma was doing good.

That’s what she told everyone, because it was true. She had full trust in Paul and she loved him. He had never hurt her, not even once.

She loved their dog, honey. She loved hatchetfield.

Her co-workers were not too quiet now, she didn’t notice the pity in their eyes, She also didn’t see the suspicious stares they gave Paul.

She was okay. Everything was okay.

*

Paul had gotten out of bed. He was always so sweet and careful, always afraid to wake her. Who was he trying to fool? They both knew she was awake.

She heard his footsteps down the hall, heard them go down the stairs, and heard the door open and close.

She knew where he was going. He went almost every night.

She had followed him that first time, through the forest at the back of the house, sticking to a very strict path. Paul liked order. He never strayed.

She watched from a distance as he sat on the treestump. She waited. She waited for a good 20 minutes. As she was about to turn and go, she heard a soft noise. Water droplets hitting pauls windbreaker.

In the silence of the forest, they sounded like gunshots.

Seeing him sitting there, helpless and thin, too thin, since his recovery, Emma couldn’t help but wish that they could just talk about it. That anyone in Hatchetfield would just speak up. 

Standing there, with the moonlight shining on the trees, Emma thought it could be her.

Then her mask came on again, and she walked back home in the silence.

Lying here now in the empty bed, Emma remembered how Paul had looked, sitting there alone in the dark. She pushed this thought off. He could do what he wanted.

But the image of him there, so small and vulnerable, was eating her alive. She slipped out of bed and into her converse, and pulled her jacket around her shoulders.

It was a perfectly clear night, a little chilly, but typical. She pulled her jacket tighter around her, and set off. 

She remembered the route perfectly. Paul’s brain worked so geometrically, it was basically a straight line. 

After about 15 minutes of walking, she saw him. On the exact same stump, with the exact same windbreaker, the exact same sound. 

She silently walked over and sat beside him.

He didn’t react.

After a minute she spoke.

“You know, Hatchetfield was never one for feelings”

Paul was still silent, his eyes were red and puffy. She remembered with a horrible jolt the bright blue, how it stared into her very being, how it started to take over her. She shivered.

“Emma, why do you deal with me? How do you forget what we did, what I did? How do you not replay it every living moment? How do you get on with your life, knowing that you are spending time with someone who tried to kill you? Hell, I DID kill you! You should hate me. I would hate me.”

Paul was trembling now. He was desperately trying to keep his voice steady.

Emma rested her head on his shoulder

“Paul, I don’t hate you because that wasn’t you. Sure, it looked like you, but it wasn’t. It was some alien hive mind thing like general McNamara told us. I get through my days because I know that deep inside up, we can do this. I get through my days to see you, Paul Matthews. I don’t care if the town has decided you’re the main character of this, to me, you are Paul Matthews, the man I love”

Paul could’t hold it any longer. His silent tears became sobs. His trembles became full on shakes. He dropped his head into his hands. 

Emma slipped off the stump and knelt before him. She gently prised his fingers away from his face. She looked into his beautiful eyes, the eyes she trusted, the eyes that were her home.

“You’re not alone”


End file.
